Black & White

I looked around the World Wide Web to see if any reputable sites distinguished this as a “dive bar” and couldn’t really find any particular mentions of it in that sense. I feel like maybe that definition has changed over the years and I’m not certain why. Judging by the old standard, this joint more than fits the bill. But maybe bars in general have come up class-wise and that designation only comes with a bum crapping in the corner, shooting up in the women’s room or like having a beat-to-shit pool table with no sticks and two Jackyl CDs in the juke. So we’ll call this a “lounge” and move on, as I saw no evidence of stray dogs fucking in the back room or the bartender wiping glasses with a dirty condom. Instead I found myself in a comfortably well-worn just-below-street-level bar devoid of any glitz, glamour or flair. Instead we pulled up wooden chairs to black, leatherette booths that reminded me of the VIP section of a beat up rock club and sat our small group in relative comfort as we rocked out to indie tunes from what I assume was a jukebox not filled with Damn Yankees or Bad Company. I call it a dive, you call it a funky lounge, but whatever it is, it’s a bar that deserves a repeat visit and a drop in whenever the night calls for a cold beer in a mellow, non-hassled environment. [MF]